Page 28 of A Body, A Baron, and Miss Mifford
“A lie of omission, one might call it,” Rob replied dryly, scratching his head. “Honestly, Higgins, I don’t know what spurred you to offer such egregious advice.”
“Miss Reid is a most dedicated servant,” Higgins replied stiffly, his face now so red that it was nearly emitting heat, “It pained me to watch her try to balance her duties to her mistress against those of -”
“The truth?” Rob interjected wryly.
“We do not know for certain what that stain was, my lord,” Higgins shrugged, “And Miss Reid said it lifted straight off with my suggested remedy; she has insinuated that after our time at Plumpton Hall ends, that we might write to each other to share tips on how best to perform our duties…”
Rob bit back a smile; he suspected that Higgins had been struck down by an acute case of desire.
“Miss Reid might omit her tale of the dress for now,” Robert decided, “But, in the future, if it appears that Lady Albermay is the true murderess, then I am afraid I will have to break your confidence. Is that clear?”
“Perfectly, my lord,” Higgins replied with an audible note of relief, “I hope you understand that I was only acting out of chivalry.”
“I understand your motivations entirely,” Rob smiled, eager now to be away to catch a glimpse of Miss Mifford at breakfast.
Downstairs, Robert found the atmosphere somewhat subdued. Each guest kept their counsel as they poked at their breakfast, no doubt wondering what - if anything - Lord Crabb’s interviews might reveal.
Lady Albermay pushed her eggs around her plate listlessly, not once lifting her fork to her mouth. She looked tired, Rob observed, as though she had spent most of the night tossing and turning. His glance drifted from the viscountess to Captain Ledger, seated a few chairs away, who was also staring in Lady Albermay’s direction. He, too, looked exhausted, Rob noted, though his expression was far less forlorn than that of the viscountess - in fact, it looked rather tender.
Rob idly wondered if Lord Albermay’s accusation that the pair were lovers was true, but he was distracted from this thought by the arrival of Eudora at the table. As she caught sight of the widowed viscountess, her complexion noticeably paled, and her eyes dropped to the floor as she slipped into her chair.
What on earth?
As he tended to his plate of eggs and kippers, Rob made several attempts to catch Miss Mifford’s eye, but her gaze remained resolutely turned away from him.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was avoiding me, Rob thought. His confidence was such, however, that such an idea was quickly dismissed.
It was only when breakfast ended, and Miss Mifford pushed back her chair and fled from the room, without her eyes flickering his way, that Rob conceded that perhaps his initial hunch had been correct.
“Lovers’ quarrel?” Highfield queried, falling into step beside Rob as they exited the dining room.
“What?” Rob replied, with some irritation - had Highfield also observed Miss Mifford ignoring him? Had her reluctance to engage with Rob been so apparent that even a man known to be distracted by his own reflection in the silverware had noted it?
“Ah, I thought as much,” the marquess’ knowing reply only served to increase Rob’s annoyance.
“Sometimes, you can be an insufferable know-it-all,” Rob retorted, though his jibe missed the mark, for it was met with a smile from his friend.
“Sometimes, you say?” Highfield answered, with a grin. “I shall have to inform Emily that she is incorrect; she ascertains that I am always an insufferable know-it-all. Do excuse me, Delaney; I must search for my wife to inform her that I am right once again.”
The marquess gave Rob a hearty slap on the shoulder and made for the staircase at speed, leaving Rob wishing he had a missile of some sort to lob at his retreating back.
Not even a coin purse, Rob thought forlornly as he patted down the front of his coat. He felt a soft lump in one pocket and recalled his earlier conversation with Higgins.
“Might as well try to salvage something of the morning,” Rob muttered aloud. He turned his heel in the direction of the kitchens in search of Lord Albermay’s valet.
Uncertain of their exact location, Rob made for the rear of the house, where he discovered a set of servant stairs leading down to a warren of rooms. He followed his nose until he arrived in a large, airy kitchen. Servants bustled about at disarraying speed, and Rob’s nostrils twitched at the delicious smells that wafted from the stove’s direction.
“Can I help, my lord?” a young slip of a girl asked as she sighted Rob standing by the doorway.
“I am looking for the late Lord Albermay’s valet,” Rob replied, his tone deliberately light.
“I expect you’ll find Mr Cartwright in Mr Allen’s office,” the maid answered, her tone conveying slight dissatisfaction at this. “If you’ll follow me, my lord, I’ll take you there.”
The young woman took off quickly, with Rob following behind. She led him through a further maze of corridors and up a set of stairs until they reached a narrow hallway. The maid rapped on the door nearest them, her expression mutinous.
The knock set off a cacophony of noise beyond the door, grumbling, coughing, and a loud crash, which suggested something might have been knocked over.
Rob sent a startled glance the maid’s way, and she duly rose her eyes to heaven.
